The story of the Little Runner
by Zarcade
Summary: Life is harsh. Sunba Masaka learned this at an early age and it was this single lesson that drove him to push past it all. What "all" you ask? Lets just say that this little boy had to deal with things most others would not be able to handle.


AN: Hello everyone. First story here so I would appreciate some feedback. Keep in mind that this chapter is supposed to be a bit... empty on information. Oh! And before I forget, the rating may be subject to change as I tend to be a bit overly descriptive with disturbing scenes at times.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto in any way, shape, or form that would give me legal say with what is done to the brand name and/or franchise, only with what products I own myself. I do however own Sunba Masaka and other original characters, so ask for permission and respect my wishes before you use them in your own work.

Legend:

Thoughts are _"italicised within quotation marks"_.

Speech is within "quotation marks".

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 1 - A broken vase.

"Huaaaargh!"

The scream cut through the bustle of the school yard like the first time the wail of a klaxon is heard throughout a mess hall, and with similar effect. Just like the tense moment when soldiers realise that; damn - they are in war, the children all froze in their tracks, an empathic reaction to the sheer amount of pain contained in that single cry. The resulting silence laid itself over the yard like a thick blanket, only broken by the loud sobbing and laboured breathing of the screamer, sounds seeming so much stronger in their contrast with absolute silence.

We move our view towards a small, isolated section of the yard to see what could possibly have caused this sound of agony and we find ourselves looking at a small group of boys.

"Shit, why did you do that?" a short boy in a dull green t-shirt asked one of his companions heatedly. The bigger boy seemed to be out of himself with fear, almost sobbing. Tears of fear were forming in his eyes.

"Ah, ah, I don't know!" he blurted nervously. It was obvious even to the nine year old boys around him that he had trouble holding himself together. "I wa, was just going to, going to keep him still, and he tried to fight back so I held harder and twisted a bit, to make him stop you know?" His red shirt was twisted in his rough grip, the hands moving and trying to be busy with something. "An, and then he just broke!"

They say that boys will be boys and that rough housing is still only fun and games, but sometimes adults can be a bit - too lenient - when it comes to aggressive behaviour in between boys. This mentality holds especially true for shinobi villages where such aggression can later on be a much valued asset, especially when tempered by a calm and calculating mind to reign in possible rashness. The four boys were all looking at the obviously broken form in their midst with varying degrees of fear and anxiety.

Soon enough one of the boys had to ask the question. "Is he okay?" The screaming boy on the ground was writhing in pain, quite obviously not okay. Someone was in denial.

"What does it look like, you idiot?" the first boy snapped. Despite his shorter stature he was the one who managed to hold on to his calm, if only by the tips of his fingers. "Come on, we need to get out of here." The sound of approaching feet shook them out of their stupor. "Come on!"

And so one group of feet ran away while another group of feet ran up to the broken boy leaned against side of the building.

"Oh, gods." The group of feet stopped a few meters from the boy at the ground and just stared. Not a second had passed before a feminine form darted forward and bent down, her hands flying to the injuries but halting just short of touching him. Maka knew that she was no medic and that if she tried to move him right now she would likely cause nothing but more pain and damage as the broken bone pressed against the surrounding tissue. And who knew how the rest of his body looked internally with those injuries? "Daito, get a medic!" When no sound of the man leaving was heard Maka snapped and made her voice heard for the third time, only now filled with promises of pain if the order was not obeyed. "Now!"

Daito grunted and suddenly his form was no longer there, leaving some swirling dirt in his place when the air rushed to fill the space he just recently had occupied. Maka turned her attention to the child before her and tried to keep herself from wincing. The right arm had to be fractured in at least two places to be jointed like that and the left leg looked only marginally better. "I suppose I should be glad that nothing broke trough the skin," she thought as she made soothing sounds and movements, gently stroking the uninjured parts of the boy. "It's going to be fine, Masaka-kun, listen to me, it's going to be alright." The sobbing slowed, turning less audible over time. _"Great, now if I could just convince myself as well as I am convincing him,"_ she thought, trying to hold the brave façade for his sake.

"It's going to be alright, Masaka," she repeated, "it's going to be alright."


End file.
